


The Tinsel Factor

by Pollydoodles



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 16:57:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5974780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pollydoodles/pseuds/Pollydoodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s not a lot in life that Darcy is organised about. </p><p>In fact, if she’s honest – and, whatever else you could say about her, she usually is honest – there’s extremely little that Darcy is organised about. Actually, you could more or less boil it down to just the one thing. </p><p>Christmas.</p><p>---#wintershock<br/>---#notPizzaVerse</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tinsel Factor

There’s not a lot in life that Darcy is organised about. 

In fact, if she’s honest – and, whatever else you could say about her, she usually is honest – there’s extremely little that Darcy is organised about. Actually, you could more or less boil it down to just the one thing. 

Christmas. 

Sure, she's not really that bothered about the religious sentiment of it all – Darcy feels that Christmas is something that should be inclusive for everyone – but it’s far and away her favourite holiday. The whole trapping of it, the songs, the decorations, the gifts, the food – especially the food – the films, the eggnog. 

For Darcy, Christmas is a military operation. 

Jane is used to it now, although the sudden flurry of activity from her usually laidback assistant was somewhat disconcerting the first year. Truth be told, Jane actually prefers Yuletide-Darcy. She’s focused, determined … and, most importantly, sorts Jane’s shopping. Which leaves Jane time to do the important things in life. Like working on the Einstein-Rosen Bridge, inventing new ways of tracking solar activity ... And spending preciously brief periods of time with a certain Nordic god. 

Darcy’s surprisingly good at presents, too. Before having experienced it, if pressed Jane would have had to conclude that her assistant simply didn’t pay enough attention to anyone to pick up their interests and find an appropriate present, never mind one that is completely perfect. On the contrary, Darcy Lewis is a world-class gift-giver who probably missed her vocation in life as a personal shopper. 

Fast forward to Avengers tower, where no-one – save Jane – is even remotely prepared for what’s about to come. 

“Uh, hey, Amy Farrah Fowler?” 

Jane looked up from her research reluctantly, pushing her hair behind her ear with one hand and shoving her glasses further up her nose as she did so. Tony Stark looked back at her. “Excuse me?” She asked. “Are you – were you talking to me?” She dropped her head to one side, trying to work out what the man was on about. 

“He, uh, he means you.” Banner said quietly from the next desk. 

Jane threw him a questioning look. The older man sighed and rolled his chair back slightly to face her. “It’s a TV show character. A female scientist. Anyway, you’re off.” The last part he directed at Stark, who had now perched himself on the edge of Banner’s desk, one foot propped against Jane’s desk. “Amy is a neuro-biologist. Jane’s an astro-physicist.” 

Stark rolled his eyes and plucked a pen from Banner’s desk, snapping the pen lid up and down. “Anyway,” He carried on. “What is it exactly that Deedee thinks she’s doing upstairs?” He looked at her pointedly. 

Jane paused, chewing thoughtfully on the end of her pen as she considered his previous line of thought for a moment. “Oh, you mean Darcy?” She said brightly, pleased she’d gotten the reference. Then her face fell slightly as she began to consider the myriad possibilities of what in fact Darcy might be up to. 

“Um, what is she doing?”

Stark waved the stolen pen theatrically. “There’s paper, and bells, and bows.” He paused. “Everywhere.”

The corners of Jane’s mouth began to twitch as the dawning realisation of what was probably happening upstairs occurred to her. She swivelled her chair so that she could see the lab calendar properly, then swivelled back to Tony, smiling brightly. “It’s Christmas.” 

“Uh, no it isn’t.” He replied, swinging himself off the desk. “It’s November 28th.”

Jane laughed. “It’s the beginning of the season for Darcy, I’m afraid. So if that’s all, I really–“

Her words were interrupted by the beginning strains of White Christmas over the PA system.  
Stark’s face darkened. Jane fought the urge to giggle. 

Lunchtime eventually rolled around, and it found Jane sat at the kitchen island for once, picking absentmindedly at a cheese and pickle sandwich, as she watched Darcy unpack Christmas. She had one eye on Darcy, but the other on the silent figure at the other end of the island. 

Bucky. 

He sat, by himself. Steve assured everyone that he was fine, and he’d never actually done anything … but that was the unsettling part. He just never did anything. They assumed he must eat at some point, but what, or indeed when, no one knew. He certainly never joined them for dinner. No one bumped into him in the kitchen at night, raiding the fridge for leftovers. Tony had programmed JARVIS to ask him at least once a day what he’d like for a meal but as far as anyone could tell, he’d never taken up the offer. 

It had taken a while, but the team had gotten into the routine of mostly ignoring him. He was generally always there, saying nothing, never seeming to react to anything. Perhaps ignore wasn’t really the right word – they’d just come to accept his presence in a room the way they would a table, or a chair, or a light switch. He was there, or sometimes he wasn’t. And that was pretty much that. 

Jane thought, aside from anything else, she felt a little sorry for him. 

“She’s quite enthusiastic, isn’t she?” Jane, startled out of her thoughts, looked up at the redhead in front of her who was trying her level best to remain composed. Jane bit back a laugh as Pepper cast her doubtful gaze around the common room which had been completely Darcy-fied. Jane had never met anyone quite as proper and tasteful as Pepper, and unfortunately those were two words that would never be able to sit alongside Darcy. Especially not at Christmas. 

Darcy hummed happily to herself, unaware of the attention she’d drawn from the others by her abrupt about-turn in the face of her usual lack of organisation. 

Bruce sidled up to Jane as she finished off the last of the sandwich, mug in hand and speculative eyes on Darcy as she unpacked yet another box of wrapping paper.

“Are we to expect 5 more weeks of this?”  
“Yup.”  
“And there’s no way to sto-“  
“Nope.”  
“You’re absolutely sure?”  
“Just drink your eggnog.”

A week later, and Darcy was very nearly very happy with her efforts. 

Streamers hung from every available space; baubles dangled from chandeliers, garlands decorated with golden pinecones and sparkling snowflakes were threaded through the balustrades. She’d rigged the fridge with one of the musical tabs from a Christmas card so that anytime it was opened the – by now, increasingly strained – music let everyone know that Santa Claus was, in fact, coming to town. 

Darcy had insisted on the biggest tree she could find – and convince Thor to haul back to the tower. Which was both absolutely huge (because Thor himself was pretty huge, and happy to put a smile on Darcy’s face), and looked amazing, except for the part where she couldn’t reach to the topmost branches to decorate. She’d busied herself with baubles and tinsel on the first two thirds, but now had no other option than to find some way of getting to the top. 

She stood back, surveying the options. There was a chance, if she was feeling particularly limber, that she could lean across from the staircase and cover around 30% of the as-yet-undecorated tree top. Darcy sighed. Perhaps Sam would lend her the Falcon wings for an afternoon? Probably unlikely. Maybe Scott could mind-meld with his ant army and get them to hang the decorations? Darcy shivered. Even if he didn’t mind, she didn’t really want ants crawling all over her Christmas tree. 

Someone cleared their throat behind her, and Darcy spun on her heel to be met with chest. Tipping her head back and pushing dark hair from her eye line, she found herself looking up at Bucky. The super soldier regarded her silently, and the girl bit her lip, unsure what he wanted. Bucky looked over her shoulder and up at the unfinished Christmas tree. He put both hands on her shoulders and, with a gentleness Darcy wasn’t sure she would ever have associated with any soldier, let alone the Winter Soldier, rotated her slowly so that she faced the tree again. 

“Um, Bucky? What are you-“ Darcy tipped her head back over her shoulder as she spoke, trying to work out what the man was up to. 

He bent and, in one smooth motion, slipped his left arm behind her knees and hoisted her onto his shoulder. Darcy fought the urge to scream. Screaming probably not a recommended pastime around recovering ex-assassins. He is an ex-assassin, right? He slowly rose to his full height, bringing the box of decorations with him under his right arm. The metal arm he kept firmly wrapped around her legs, steadying her as she perched on his shoulder. 

Her fear evaporated instantly.

“Excellent, I can reach right to the top now,” she exclaimed happily. Bucky glanced up at the petite brunette sat on his shoulder. “Can you pass me that bauble? No, not that one – that one.” Bucky transferred the box to his left hand, gripping the edge of it with ease in his metal fingers, and passed up the appropriate decoration with his right. Darcy grinned and then proceeded to direct him around the tree. 

“Yup, just-just there, that’s perfect. Can you shift just a little to the left? Yes, just there. Brilliant. You know, you’re really good at this.” The dark haired girl beamed down at him from his shoulder and Bucky felt something warm stirring in the middle of his chest that he’d not felt for a long time. In fact, something he’d thought he would probably never feel again – pride. 

“Okay, a little closer, just edge to the right a bit? Can you pass up that tinsel now? Oh, I meant the blue- no, actually, that’s fine, you’re totally right, purple works much better. ‘Fess up, Barnes, you’ve done this before, haven’t you?” Darcy managed to keep up a non-stop stream of chatter as she worked, and he found it somehow soothing. It was the sheer enthusiasm for it all that sort of both stumped and charmed him. 

He found that he liked it. 

Had anyone asked him – not that they would have, because they gave him a wide berth and he guessed he couldn’t really blame them for that – he’d’ve assumed that a steady flow of constant talk would drive him bonkers but actually it was giving him something to concentrate on, outside of the thoughts that rattled around inside his head, the ones that crashed into each other repeatedly and often made the spot behind his eyes hurt.

“Buck? Bucky? Could you just- I think if you lean to the right and I lean as well, then we can reach that spot by the stairs and then-“

So that’s how the rest of the team happened upon them, the bubbly brunette girl perched on Bucky’s metal shoulder, feet crossed at the ankles as though she were sat anywhere but on top of one of the deadliest weapons known to US history and the silent soldier beneath her who was obeying every instruction she passed out to him. 

“Is that?”  
“Did she-“  
“Bucky?”

The last was Steve, who despite presenting to the world a cheerful outlook and fervently maintaining that Bucky was absolutely fine and just needed some time to adjust, was actually quietly increasingly concerned that his friend didn’t seem to want to interact with anyone other than himself. 

Bucky gently rotated on his heel, enough for Darcy to be able to throw the team a bright smile, and still be able to reach the tree. 

“Oh,” She said. “Did you guys want more eggnog?”


End file.
